The other half
by Skiefyer
Summary: When Spock is two Amanda, terrified her son will live a life of emotional suppression, boards a transport in secret and takes him to Earth. This is the story of his life, how he starts off human, turns Vulcan, and eventually learns to embrace both. K/S
1. Prolouge

A/N: When Spock is two Amanda, terrified her son will live a life of emotional repression and denial, boards a transport in secret, under false names, and takes him to earth. This story is about his life from that point on, how he grows up a half-Vulcan child unaware of his heritage, yet still spurned for being different. A child with such an immense capacity for feeling not only his own emotions but the emotions of others, he can seldom control his responses. This is the story of Spock, how he begins human, turns Vulcan, and finally learns to embrace both halves of himself. Of course, a certain dashing captain might have something to do with the latter...

Prologue

"Mother?" A young Vulcan solemnly tugged at the bottom of his mother's stern grey frock.

"Yes, Spock dear?" His mother smiled warmly and reached down to pull the little Vulcan into her arms. She snuggled him close, kissing him briefly on the forehead and chuckling at the serious look on his face.

"I made a friend today," he told her, voice perfectly monotonous and face devoid of expression.

"Well that's lovely," she ruffled his hair, "now put a smile on that little face, won't you?"

He frowned slightly and made as if to bat her hand away, "Not supposed too," he mumbled and looked away.

"Nonsense," she tapped his nose playfully, "my little Vulcan can smile whenever he wants and," she smiled fondly, "when his mother wants him to."

The tiniest little half-smile crept onto his face and hovered there hesitantly, as if seeking approval.

"That the best you can do?" Amanda teased as she reached over to grab a tiny knitted wool cap from the table.

The smile grew slightly, a lop-sided sort of grin as Amanda ruffled his hair again before placing the cap over it and tucking the points of his tapered ears within it.

"That's more like it," she said fondly, "now how about we-"

"Amanda," a cool, clipped, voice came from the doorway.

Amanda turned around slowly, smile still stretched across her face as she greeted him, "Sarek."

"What is the meaning of this?" Sarek's face is bland, emotionless, his voice possessing the tonal range of cardboard. Still, Amanda sensed a storm on the horizon. Sighing, she set Spock down.

"Darling, why don't you go outside for a little bit, huh? I'll call you in for dinner." She gently pushed him towards the door.

"Okay," he shot a curious glance between his mother and father before shuffling outside.

The smile dropped from her face as she took in Sarek's stern countenance.

"The meaning of what?" She asked quietly, certain she knew the answer.

"Your blatant disregard for Vulcan customs and the traditional upbringing of our offspring." Sarek said shortly, disapproval emanating as clearly as if he'd expressed it verbally.

"Well, I don't agree with them." She crossed her arms, equally as stubborn, mouth pressed into a firm line.

"You are not required to," Sarek informed her, "you need only follow them."

"Can you _hear _yourself?" She stared, unwilling to believe he could honestly expect her to blindly follow a set of customs she couldn't agree with.

Sarek stiffened, "My ears are functioning optimally," he fixed her with his gaze, "you _will _cease these ridiculous emotional displays immediately, and desist in your attempts to corrupt our child."

"_Corrupt_ our child?" She said angrily, "there's a key word in that sentence Sarek, and it's _our, _he's _our _child. Which means he's Vulcan _and_ Human." Her eyes were blazing now, fierce in her determination to finally get her point across. "Why should he adhere to only one culture, when he can combine the best of both?"

"I do not disagree with the sentiment," Sarek said carefully, "however; I do not share your opinion of human emotionalism. I do not believe it to be humanity's greatest attribute. Indeed, I have often considered it their greatest weakness."

Her eyes narrowed, "you forget I'm human."

Sarek raised an elegant eyebrow, "you have made that exceedingly difficult with your constant displays of inappropriate emotional attachment."

"Inappropriate emotional attachment?" She fumed, "I'm his _mother_, it's what we _do_."

"It is a human maternal instinct perhaps, but nothing more. It serves no constructive purpose in the upbringing of a child."

"I _am _human." She all but shouted, conscious of Spock playing innocently outside, "I feel those 'human maternal instincts', how can I not act upon them? I love my son," she said, quieter, "tell yourself you're indulging my pathetic human faults if you must, but let me raise him in both our cultures. There is no _logical _reason to deny one half in favour of another."

"There is indeed logic in doing so," Sarek said sternly, "when one is detrimental to his wellbeing."

Amanda sighed at the utter hopelessness of the situation, all the fight sagging out of her. "You'll never accept humans as equal, will you?" she said softly, a bitter half smile on her face, "you'll always see them as inferior, always see _me_ as inferior."

Sarek made no move to reply and she shook her head in self-depreciation. "You know, almost three years into our marriage and I _still _don't understand why you married me. I don't suppose I ever will."

"It," Sarek hesitated uncharacteristically before ploughing forward, "it was a logical decision, nothing more."

Hurt flashed in her eyes at the entirely unemotional statement. "A logical decision?"

"I am ambassador to Earth," he shrugged minutely, as if the admission meant absolutely nothing to him, "it seemed logical to acquaint myself fully with the culture and practices."

"You can't mean that." She whispered voice broken and raw.

"I am Vulcan," Sarek stated needlessly, "I cannot love, not the way you expect. Neither can he, and you would do well to comprehend that." He brushed past her and headed in out the door of the building.

She slid slowly down the wall and grasped her knees close to her chest for comfort. Rocking slightly, she cried, tears slinking down her cheeks in rivulets, dripping off her chin and dampening the fabric of her blouse. He didn't love her. All this time he'd _never _loved her. And she'd given up _everything_, her entire life to be with him. How had she missed it? How could she not have realised? She'd known that Vulcans suppressed their emotions to the point where they claimed not to feel them, but somehow she'd just _known _that Sarek loved her. That beneath his stern, blank, exterior and seemingly impermeable logic, he'd found it within himself to care about her, to love her. Why else would he have married her? Except that, apparently, it had been the logical decision of the week. Well she'd had enough of his ridiculous logic and restricting behaviour. She was not going to let her son become some kind of living robot, not if she could help it. _He's pulled my last straw_ she thought bitterly, and _broke the camel's back_.

"Mother?" a quietly hesitant voice invaded her thoughts as a small hand hovered in near her face. Swiftly she dried her eyes and brought her head up, forcing a smile onto her face.

"Yes darling?" She felt physically pained to see him struggle to prevent himself from touching her, from indulging the very human need for physical comfort from one's mother.

"Why are you and father fighting?" He finally clasped his hands behind his back, as if physically restraining himself from reaching out to her.

"Come here," she said, reaching her arms out to embrace him. Her son was half human and if Sarek thought she'd deny him that for just one second he had another thing coming.

Spock hesitated before running into her arms with a force that pushed her back hard against the wall. He started to move back apologetically but she held him tightly.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear, feeling the immense warmth his tiny body radiated. She had never felt a more intense love in her life as she did now. "I love you so, so much."

Her heart nearly broke when he didn't reply; she hugged him closer, if that were possible, and fought back the urge to weep again.

"Why are you sad?" He asked curiously as she released him, small hands reaching up to trace the lines of her face.

"I'm not sad," she tried to grin, "what makes you think that?"

"I can feel it," he responded so softly she almost didn't hear it, as if he were afraid to say the words out loud.

She smiled slightly at the admission; there was still hope for her son. And if she took him away from Vulcan, away from Sarek, perhaps he might grow into the loving being she knew he would be. He couldn't remain here, of that much she was certain. If he did, Sarek would beat the Surakian principles into him until nary a trace remained of his human heritage. He would be just another unfeeling, cold, logic-driven Vulcan. She couldn't bear the thought. They had to leave, it was for the best.

"Darling?" she placed her fingers under his chin and tilted his face up to look at hers, "how would you like to go on a trip?"

"A trip?" he asked, barely managing to veil the inherent curiosity he was vehemently scolded by Sarek for displaying.

"Yeah," she smiled, "we'll go see another planet, how's that sound?"

"Will father be coming?" He asked, something akin to slight worry colouring his usual borderline monotonous tone.

"Nah," she ruffled his hair, "it'll be just you and me."

He smiled one of his rare tiny half-smiles, "and we can explore?"

"All you want," she replied, "we can go anywhere you want."

"When can we go?" He failed to hide his excitement; it shone vividly through his dark eyes.

"Right now, if you want," she grinned at him, "just let me grab our things and we can be off."

Hurriedly, lest Sarek return before they'd left and put an end to the whole plan, she haphazardly raced through the house grabbing only the basic necessities. Stuffing her and Spock's clothes into a single bag, she made room for only one personal effect: a photograph of the three of them in a rare moment of happiness. Well, happiness for her and Spock anyway. Sarek, she supposed, had probably very logically decided that smiling once in his lifetime wouldn't actually kill them. If you could, in fact, call that a smile. It was truthfully more of a grimace. Still, it held fond memories for Amanda, and she wanted something to show Spock when he was old enough. She suddenly realised exactly what she was doing. She was kidnapping Spock and running away. She was taking him away from Sarek, his _father_. But what else could she do? She just couldn't bear to see her son turn into a robot, devoid of all emotion. She had no other choice. She grabbed the beanie she'd knitted Spock a few months back and then raced to the main room where he was waiting patiently.

"Here put this on darling," she gave him the beanie, "and make sure your ears are covered, it's colder where we're going."

In truth, the beanie was simply to hide his ears. Her plan, however hasty and ill-thought was to board one of the visitor's transports. She could easily claim they'd simply been touring Vulcan and no one would think anything of it. Spock looked somewhat different from the average Vulcan when his ears were covered up. He was slightly courser – much less refined, although more so than the average human – and his skin was only really faintly green. In fact, you only really noticed it if he was sick or embarrassed. The beanie covered the ears and, to a certain extent, the bowl cut. If she carried him and he didn't do anything unusual for a two year old human – like speak in full, practically educated sentences – he'd pass.

"Alright, dear," she hoisted the bag on her shoulder, "are you ready?"

"Yes." He looked up at her, unbelievably cute in his little beanie.

"Let's go then," she picked him up and headed out the door, locking it firmly behind her. She was somewhat glad Sarek had quarters within in the Vulcan Science Academy; the heat at this hour would've been almost unbearable to trek though. As it was, all she had to do was walk down a corridor, swipe at the terminal for a transport vehicle, and she had her own private ride to the tourist base. The ride was passed in silence, Spock picking up on his mother's tension and unable to prevent it from filling him with the same, nameless, fear.

When the transport stopped, Amanda grabbed Spock again and stepped out, taking a brief moment to survey her surroundings before heading towards the sign marked 'departure'. There was a small computerised station near the sign marked 'traveller enquiries'. Well, this was it, the part where the plan either worked or failed terribly. She needed to get them new identities, so they couldn't be tracked. She was banking on the fact that she wasn't included in the Vulcan system because she was human. Their 'citizenship' status was never extended to a non-Vulcan, and, as such, the system would have no record of who she was. Thankfully, because Spock was two, he could be registered under her name. Sarek might later guess what she'd done, might even figure out the name she was under, but by the time he did it would be too late. She'd be on Earth, safe, and with an entirely new identity. Thankfully, her brother had a friend who was involved in that 'business', he could help them.

"State your enquiry" the computer droned.

"I've lost my identification unit and need a new one."

"Name."

"Ashley Holmes" She lied.

The computer whirred, "you are not in the database."

"I'm a traveller," she told it, "human."

"Very well." The computer snapped a photo of her and displayed it on the screen next to the name 'Ashley Holmes'. "Address." It demanded.

"46 Stormside crescent," she gave her brother's address, "Minnesota, America, Earth."

"That residence is occupied by a Daniel Grayson. That is not the name you stated."

"He's my brother, I'm staying with him at the moment."

"Very well." The computer whirred again, "your identification unit is ready, please check for any mistakes."

"I also need to add my son to it," she added, "He's two."

"Very well," the computer asked for a few more details and then a small chip dropped out of it. Amanda picked it up and sighed in relief, now they could go. She headed past the departure sign and to the console that displayed the transport times. There was one leaving in fifteen minutes that had enough space. She quickly booked a spot by sliding her identification chip in and then transferring credits across via her other one. Unfortunately, she realised, having done that Sarek could probably track the transference of the credits and then find out her identity. It was of little consequence, she decided, since she'd get another one the moment she got in contact with her brother. Which needed to be soon. The transport would take probably a day to get to Earth and Sarek was sure to return and find her missing before then. At least the new identity would buy her a little time. Besides, Sarek couldn't exactly stop the transport anyway – they weren't doing anything illegal, yet.

"Why did you lie about our names?" Spock asked curiously, hands curled into her shirt.

"Just for fun," she smiled playfully at him, "we're going on an adventure, you and I."

"Where to?" He asked, excited again.

"Earth." She smiled, as she said the name almost reverently. It had been years since she'd been to Earth. She'd missed it. Especially the cool temperatures of autumn and winter. Alright, she needed to call her brother so he could meet her when she reached Earth. She sat Spock down on a bench nearby a communication station and instructed him to stay put. He regarded her gravely with his dark eyes and nodded. She hurried over to the station and called him. Within a few seconds his picture appeared on the screen.

"Sis!" He smiled widely, his eyes crinkling as he saw her. "It's been awhile, how's it going?"

"Not so good Danny," she sighed, "I don't have a lot of time to explain but I'm...I'm leaving Sarek." She practically muttered the last few words, conscious of her son's better-than-average Vulcan hearing.

"What?" He actually looked somewhat pleased, "it's about time you know. I still don't even understand why you shacked up with that guy in the first place."

"Quiet," she hissed as Spock turned to watch her curiously, "Spock's here."

"Sorry," he grinned sheepishly, "so you're coming back to Earth then?"

"Yeah," she said, "and I'm bringing Spock."

"He's letting you take him?"

"Not exactly..." she hedged, "look I'll tell you all about it later, right now I just need you to meet me at the arrival area on the spacedock in around twenty-four hours, ok? And...can you bring some new identities with you? We're going to need them."

"Oh no, Manda," he looked slightly shocked, "you aren't _stealing_ the kid are you?" he all but whispered.

"He's my son," she groused, "and I'm not stealing him. This is for the best, trust me. So can you do it?"

"You got it, sis,' he mock saluted her, "so what names?"

"I don't really care," she sighed, "just something that doesn't link me to Sarek in any way, shape, or form."

"Alright, see you then." Daniel moved to cut he communication.

"Thanks," she smiled at him, "means a lot to me."

"What are family for?" He joked, "if not to smuggle their sister's kids into the country."

She laughed as the communication ended before going back to grab Spock and head to the transport.

"You ready?" She asked him, "It's your first space flight."

He just nodded and clutched her shirt just that little bit tighter. She tugged a lock of his hair and reset the beanie on his head as they waited in line to board the transport. Once they'd boarded and Amanda had settled Spock on her lap, she began to relax a little. The plan was working out; they'd make it to Earth where her brother was waiting for them.

"We are now leaving the Vulcan space dock" a computerised voice drifted through the air.

Spock's eyes widened as it began to take off, engines whirring loudly. He clasped his hands over his ears in surprise, squeezing his eyes shut. Amanda chuckled and stroked his back as he gradually opened them again only to widen them in wonder.

"The stars," Amanda smiled gently, "aren't they beautiful?"

Spock started nodding in agreement even before he realised what he was doing. Blushing faintly, embarrassed at showing emotion, he studiously looked the other way.

"Now none of that," Amanda mock lectured him, "on this trip you can be as expressive as you want. I don't care. In fact, I want you to be expressive."

"Really?" the hesitance in his voice tugged her heartstrings, "of course," she murmured, hugging him close, "with me you can be as emotional as you want; I'll only love you more."

He said nothing and she realised that he'd fallen asleep. Smiling, she rested her head on the window ad joined him. Around twenty-four hours later she was tensely fighting the urge to bite her nails as the transport landed in the Earth space dock. Grabbing her bag, she slung it over her shoulder and exited the transport, Spock still firmly asleep on her other shoulder. He was receiving a lot of adoring looks from passing strangers and, objectively of course, Amanda had to admit that her son was awfully cute. Scanning the room for her brother, she sighed in relief when she spotted him and made her way over.

"Hey Manda," he greeted her when she was within earshot.

"Danny," she hugged him awkwardly with one arm.

"So this is Spock, huh?" he peered at the little bundle of sleeping cuteness on her shoulder. "He's kind of cute. Dunno where he got it from..."

She grinned, "Do you have them?"

"Yep," he held out two new identity chips to Amanda, "welcome to Earth Miss Amanda and Spock Joyce."

"Seriously?" she looked at him incredulously, "you kept _both _our first names?"

"Hey," Daniel defended, "there are a _lot _of Amanda's on Earth, and, you said his name was some strange thing like Ssschnn tagai Spoock or something."

"Yeah but, Spock isn't common at all and-"

"Relax sis," Daniel reached out to take her bag, "Sarek won't find you."

She didn't look convinced but followed him as he walked through the dock.

"You got a place to stay?"

"Not exactly," she sighed, "but I can't stay with you, it's too obvious."

"I know," he grinned, "that's why I took the liberty of contacting a friend in Boston. She's got a free room for a couple of nights while you sort yourself out."

"Where would I be without you?" She said emphatically.

"Glad to help."

And so it had begun.

A/N: So there it is. I had this idea and I just _had _to write it. What if Spock grew up human? Well, we'll see won't we.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: This chapter marks the beginning of Arc 1. I anticipate a total of 4 or 5 Arcs, so this story is slow building and long. Kirk probably won't come into the equation until half-way through arc 2 perhaps and the two won't get any major interactions until arc 3. The majority if the relationship stuff (with Kirk) will end up in arc 4/5. So, you're going to have to be patient if that's all you're interested in reading this story for. I can't guarantee it will be worth reading up to that point, but I think I have a fairly good idea and if you stick with it, well, hopefully it _will_ be worth it. So, this arc is predominately Spock's childhood on earth. I figured I'd definitely need to go into depth with this because it's going to be slightly different,, yet similar, and I want to portray how he becomes who he is. Alright, long-winded Author's note out of the way, let's get on with the story. Oh, and from this point on the story will be in Spock's POV although there will be little to no first person stuff since I'm not particularly fond of the style. Apparently, the typical age for an American child to enter preschool is around 5, is that right? So Spock's in preschool and is now around 5ish.

Okay, I'm having soooo much trouble writing this chapter. Seriously, who knew writing kids could be so hard? Please let me know if you think I've got it all wrong, things like they shouldn't know those words at this age etc. Keep in mind though that Spock is half-vulcan (even if he's not growing up there) and so with his eidetic memory and all would be way, way, above normal.

"Don't leave me here, please?" A young boy begged his mother somewhat shamelessly, hugging tight to her leg and refuting all her attempts to get him to let go.

"Spock," she smiled warmly, "I can't take you to work with me."

"I'll be good," the little boy promised solemnly, "You won't know I'm there."

"I'm sorry," she sighed, "I don't want to leave you either, but I have to. So make this easier on me, alright?"

He frowned slightly and let go, "okay."

She pulled him in again for another hug, "don't worry," she smiled, "I'll see you in a few hours anyway."

"Okay," he said, still frowning, looking down at his feet.

"And we'll have whatever you want for dinner, sound good?" Amanda slipped her fingers under his chin and lifted it up.

"Yeah," he managed a tiny smile.

Amanda pushed him slightly towards the teacher, "that's my boy, now off you go with Miss Lorrie."

"Three pm pick up," the grey-haired teacher informed her sternly before placing a hand on Spock's heavily clothed shoulder and shepherding him into the building. Spock shot one last glance at his mother, dark eyes almost, but not quite, pleading underneath his medium length black hair, before sighing and meekly following the teacher. It was his first day of what his mother called 'preschool' and, frankly, he wasn't all that excited about it. There was nothing particularly fascinating about colouring in pre-drawn pictures, playing in a sandpit or taking collective naps; all things his mother had insisted he would enjoy. He wasn't so sure. The fact that there were other children presented some interest – he hadn't had the chance to interact with many other kids in the three years he'd been on earth, and his memories of the other planet (he still didn't really know what it was called as his mother didn't talk about it) were vague. But he was slightly hesitant about meeting other kids, especially since the few he'd met already seemed...somewhat different from him. There were the physical attributes; his very slight green tinge and pointy ears. His mother told him he had a rare genetic disease that caused these changes. He'd asked her if his father had died from this disease, since obviously she didn't have it and he wasn't around, but she'd never answer him. She did say that his father had passed it onto him. He supposed he probably _had _died from something, but his mother said his disease wasn't ever fatal. Then there were the other things that were different about him. Like his vocabulary and, quite clearly, his intelligence. He hadn't yet met a child that was his mental equal – even though he'd met one or two kids at least three years older than him. His mother just said he was a genius and had a high IQ, and not to worry about it – they'd probably 'catch up' eventually. He hoped so as the few kids he'd met seemed to dislike him for it. That, among other things.

"Take a seat somewhere," the teacher instructed him, grabbing a box of colouring pencils off of the shelf and shoving them into his gloved hands – another effect of the disease, it could be transferred through touch so he had to cover up most of his skin (apparently though, his mother was immune) – and then grabbing him a sheet of paper and pointing him towards a table with an empty seat.

"Oh and take that hat off," she said sternly, "you don't wear them inside."

Sighing Spock removed his beanie revealing his shoulder-length black hair which just barely covered the tips of his pointed ears. Spock cautiously slid into the red plastic chair, placed his paper and pencils on the table, and had a look around the table. There were three other kids seated, scribbling furiously on their respective sheets. One, a boy, was fair skinned and had the lightest hair Spock had ever seen, with light blue eyes. He was busy drawing numerous circle-like objects although, honestly, none of them really resembled circles so much as amorphous blobs. Another, a boy also, was darker with brown hair and seemed to favour squares. The third, a girl with black hair, was happily colouring in the many flowers she'd drawn on her page. The latter looked up as Spock settled into his place and smiled brightly at him.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Amy."

"I'm Spock," he replied shyly, aware that his name was slightly odd.

"That's a funny name," the little girl laughed, "I like it."

Spock, surprised and slightly embarrassed, flushed slightly and looked down at the desk.

"You're _green_!" Amy giggled, drawing the attention of the other two.

"Haha, he's green," the blonde one laughed and pointed at Spock with his yellow crayon.

Spock flushed further and sunk down into his chair, trying desperately – while knowing it was physically impossible – to become invisible.

"That's _so_ cool!" The brown-haired one announced, "are you an _alien_?"

"Why are you wearing gloves?" The blonde asked, "do you have weird alien hands? Can I see them?"

"No," Spock muttered, "I'm human."

"But you're green," The blonde pointed out, "that's not normal."

"I," Spock hesitated, "I have a disease."

"Ewww," the brown-haired boy wrinkled his nose, "is it, you know, can I get it?"

"No," he shook his head slowly, "that's why I have gloves."

"Ohhh," the boy leant forward slightly, "weird."

"I think it's cute," the little girl spoke up, smiling at Spock, "green's my favourite colour."

He flushed a brilliant shade of green and looked away, cursing at his inability to control the reaction. As he did so his hair moved slightly, revealing a tiny pointed ear.

"Your ear's all pointy!" She exclaimed, "are you an elf?"

"No," he looked at her curiously, "what's an elf?"

"They're Santa's helpers," she informed him solemnly, "they help make the presents and stuff."

Spock looked at her, confused, "who is this 'santa'?"

She gasped, "you don't know Santa?"

Spock shook his head, his mother had never mentioned a 'santa'.

"He gives all the good boys and girls presents at Christmas," the blonde boy put in helpfully.

"Yeah," the brown-haired one agreed, "and he's like fat and happy with a beard."

"I have never seen him."

"Are you _bad?_" the little girl looked slightly worried "only the bad kids don't get stuff from santa."

"Spock frowned, "I do not believe so," he looked curiously at them, "you have all seen him?"

"Well no," the girl doodled absentmindedly with a crayon, "no one's seen him, we just get presents under the tree at Christmas."

"What is this Christmas?" Spock asked, fascinated by the concept, "and when is it?"

"It's a day," the brown haired boy informed him sagely, "like at the end of the year."

"And you get presents, like on your birthday!" The blonde grinned and high-fived the brown-haired boy.

"Fascinating," Spock smiled slightly and then frowned, why hadn't his mother ever mentioned this to him?

"I don't think you're bad," the little girl said quietly, handing him a drawing of a pink flower, "you're too nice."

"Thanks," Spock accepted the picture and cuddled it to his chest – no one had ever given him anything like this before – "you draw well," he complimented her; her drawing was very clearly a flower, although a wide interpretation of one.

"You haven't drawn anything," she noticed, sliding her chair closer to his, "draw me something?"

"What would you like?" Spock placed the drawing under his hat and picked up the box of colouring pencils, selecting a black one.

"An elf," she giggled, "make him look like you."

Spock nodded and began to work on the picture. He hadn't done a large amount of drawing, but he'd certainly done enough to develop a slight knack for the details. He was, even at his young age, a perfectionist to the core. Once introduced to a skill, he practiced it until he had mastered it to the utmost of his ability – which was considerable. With his eidetic memory and said attention to detail, he was actually quite good at drawing – especially for his age.

"Ohhh," Amy gasped, "you're good!" She clapped her hands together as he put the final touches on the hair and face of the drawing.

"Thanks," he muttered, flushing again, as he handed the finished picture to Amy.

"You have to colour it green," she announced, grabbing a green pencil and handing it to him. Spock obliged and before long there was a little miniature, and very, very green, version of himself on the paper.

"Thanks," Amy lent over and hugged him suddenly; Spock froze. Only his mother had ever hugged him, he had no idea what to do in this situation. He gingerly put his arms around the little girl and reciprocated the gesture.

"You're the bestest ever," Amy informed him as she sat back and surveyed the drawing, "I'm gonna keep this forever."

"And I, yours." Spock looked fondly at his flower and sighed happily, he was glad his mother had made him come.

"Okay children," the teacher clapped her hands loudly to get their attention, "it's time for lunch, everyone outside." She began to usher them out a door and into the fenced playground at the back of the building. Amy grabbed Spock's gloved hand and dragged him along, "let's go play!"

Spock was too shocked to reply, having some trouble getting over the fact that she'd just grabbed his hand and was bodily dragging him out the door. Thank goodness he had his gloves on! Amy had just dragged him over to the swing set when a loud voice called out to them.

"Amy and Spock!" The teacher yelled, "you have to have lunch first."

"Don't wanna," Amy grumbled, letting go of Spock's hand and trudging over to the lunch area. Spock followed her towards a small table, taking a seat beside her and another little girl. The teacher set a few plates of sandwiches down on the table and told them to eat up.

"These have to all be gone before you can play," she said sternly, "oh and Spock," she handed him a smaller plate with a sandwich on it, "here's your vegetarian one."

"Thank you," he accepted the plate and set it down on the table, turning to look at Amy as she poked him in the arm.

"What's vega-ter-an?" She asked, regarding his sandwich with blatant curiosity.

"It means I don't eat meat," Spock informed her.

"Why?" she picked a chicken sandwich off of the big plate and took a large bite.

"My mother says it's wrong," he shrugged slightly; "she says all life is equally important."

"Oh," Amy dropped her sandwich, "so I shouldn't eat it?"

"I guess not," he looked at her crestfallen face, "you can share mine if you want," he offered, taking off his gloves so he could eat.

"You're the best!" She smiled brightly at him and took a triangular-cut sandwich off of the little plate. He smiled shyly and grabbed one himself. After they'd cleared all the plates on the table of sandwiches, the teacher let them play on the playground.

"Let's go on the swing," Amy grabbed Spock's arm as he put his gloves back on, "race you!" She giggled and ran off in the direction of the swings. Spock ran after her, easily catching up and then passing her and finally beating her to the swings. His face flushed slightly from the run, he turned around and was met with an unhappy face.

"You beat me," Amy frowned, crossing her arms and scuffing her foot in the sand.

"I'm faster," Spock said simply, merely stating a fact.

"Not fair," she grumbled, "you're better at _everything_."

"We've only done two things," Spock pointed out, "so you can't know that."

"Do to." She scowled, hopping on the swing.

"No you don't," Spock said, confused, it was obvious that she couldn't possibly know that so why did she argue?

"Do. To." Amy said angrily, banging her fist against the chains.

"You cannot," Spock insisted, "we have not compared ourselves in every single activity."

"Do to!" She started to cry.

Spock was shocked. Why was she crying? For that matter, why was she arguing when she was so obviously wrong. It made _no _sense.

"Why are you crying?" He asked, slightly fascinated.

Amy said nothing, continuing to wail loudly. The teacher, having heard the commotion, came over to find out what was going on.

"Amy," she hoisted the girl off the swing and onto her hip, "what's the matter?"

"Spock was mean to me," the little girl mumbled, "he said mean things."

"Spock," the teacher admonished, "that's no way to act; now you come with me young man."

Spock, astonished and completely and utterly confused at the bizarre turn of events, meekly followed the teacher into the building.

"Now you go sit in that corner," the teacher pointed towards a small chair in the corner of the room, "until I say you can leave."

Still utterly bamboozled, Spock followed her directions and seated himself on the chair. It was facing the wall, which seemed somewhat pointless to him. He sighed, children were so...random, would be the best word to describe them. Complex, maybe, although needlessly so. Actually, there_ was_ a word that fit them perfectly – illogical. He had done absolutely nothing to upset Amy – he was sure – he'd only agreed to her request for a race. Which he had won, fair and square, because he was faster. So why was she so upset? He resolved to ask his mother, she had a certain unfathomable insight into these things.

"Now Spock," the teacher came back over to the corner and placed a wrinkled hand on his shoulder, "have you thought about what you did? Are you ready to say sorry?"

Spock fixed her with a steady gaze, dark eyes solemn, "I don't understand," he admitted, "what did I do?"

"You said mean things to Amy," the teacher informed him sternly, "and you have to say you're sorry for them."

"But I did not," Spock said earnestly

"Well young man," the teacher frowned, "if you're not going to apologise then you can sit there until home time." She marched away, giving him no chance to respond. He sighed and resumed staring aimlessly at the wall. For the next hour he amused himself by running through one of the stories his mother had read to him when he was younger, 'Robin Hood' it was called. It was his favourite so far, and whenever he found himself bored he simply ran the words through his head as he imagined it. Two chapters before the end, he was interrupted by the teacher telling him his mother was here to pick him up. He followed her out the door and was met by his smiling mother's face.

"Not so fast," the teacher reprimanded him as she grabbed him by the shoulder and held him back, "I need to have a word with your mother, you wait here." She then motioned to his mother to come inside with her. Spock watched them go curiously; almost certain she was going to tell his mother about the bizarre Amy incident. He still had no idea what he'd done wrong but obviously it had been serious. A few minutes later his mother came back out, a slight frown on her face.

"We'll see you tomorrow," she was saying, "and I know he'll be a good boy."

"Good," the teacher replied, before heading back inside.

"Spock," his mother knelt down and looked him in the eyes, "do you want to tell me what happened today?"

Spock sighed and recounted the day's events down to the exact words of every sentence. His mother started smiling half-way through and actually – and Spock was a pit put out by this – began laughing when he told her how Amy had just started crying.

"It's not funny," he told her, crossing his arms and fixing her with a stern gaze. He was even more offended (not to mention astounded) when she just started laughing harder.

"Oh Spock," she drew him close and hugged him tightly, "only five and you're already a ladykiller."

"I don't understand," he frowned and drew back from the hug.

"Oh honey, she wanted you to let her win 'cause she likes you."

Spock just blinked, uncomprehending.

"I know it makes no sense," Amanda chuckled, "but little girls rarely do."

Putting it to the back of his mind for further consideration, Spock suddenly remembered what he'd wanted to ask his mother.

"What is 'santa'?" He asked as she began to walk towards their transport vehicle, "and why have you never told me about him?"

"He's a myth," Amanda answered as she opened the door and ushered Spock in, "created to make kids behave."

"A myth?" Spock was shocked, "but all those kids think it's real."

"They're supposed to," she reassured him, "it keeps them in line."

"Oh," he said quietly, "they'll be sad to find out he is a lie."

"You can't tell them," Amanda told him sternly, risking a glace away from the road, "promise me you won't."

"But why?" He raised a tiny eyebrow, "shouldn't they know the truth?"

"Not in this case," his mother said sternly, "promise me."

"I promise," he sighed, and then, "thanks."

"For what, honey?"

"Not lying to me," he fixed his gaze on the road ahead.

"Always," she smiled slightly but Spock detected a heavy bitterness and guilt lacing her tone. He decided not to ask, aware that there were things his mother just didn't talk about – his father and the strange alien planet he could just barely remember. An all-encompassing, overwhelming, comforting heat that seemed a stark contrast to the irritating temperature fluctuations that were the norm here, and a deep masculine tone tinged with disappointment were his only memories of that period of his life. Sometimes, he thought he had only dreamed or imagined them. His mother refused to talk about it, to even hear about his dreams, saying some things were better left in the past. He'd come to the conclusion that his father had hurt his mother somehow, and it was too painful for her to talk about it. The hypothesis certainly seemed to fit the tidal wave of emotions he sensed boiling under her skin every time she kissed him, or even hugged him close. Some of them he couldn't even come close to recognising, but he felt hurt, anger, regret and – most perplexingly – guilt. Then, suddenly, a thought occurred to him.

"Am I an alien?" He asked curiously, watching his mother for her reaction. He saw her tense; fingers white from clenching the wheel too hard, and then slowly start to relax.

"Now what gave you that idea?" She hedged, taking the turn into their street.

"The others thought I was."

"Spock," his mother sighed, "we've been through this before; the disease causes all your physical differences."

"So I am not an alien?" He needed to hear his mother say it out loud.

"No," she sighed, "you aren't."

"And I am not an elf?"

"No," she almost chuckled, "not as far as I'm aware."

A/N: Ok, I'm going to end here, on this note, because I want to update and I think that's about all that needs to be covered in the pre-school chapter. Again, please let me know if my kids are too advanced or even the opposite – I have little to no knowledge of them. Next chapter's Grade 1 (and no, I'm not going to do every single grade...well, nah, it'll probably just be some important ones like maybe 3 or 4, then 7, 8 perhaps, 11 then 12...actually, is there even a 12 in America? I'd actually appreciate some insight here, I have researched somewhat but the best info comes from people who're in the system. Thanks for reading, hope it was worth it.


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